


Control

by WhoIsYourHeroDoloresHaze



Category: Gone With the Wind - All Media Types
Genre: Almost smut, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Rhett, Jealousy, Morally questionable but sexy as hell lets be real, POV Rhett, Power Dynamics, Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, based off the movie, ffn saw it first, lets just have fun with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoIsYourHeroDoloresHaze/pseuds/WhoIsYourHeroDoloresHaze
Summary: That staircase scene. Dubcon, but labeled non-con to be safe.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the movie. I originally posted this to FFN, but I decided to bring it here with some edits and an extension. I might add a second chapter, but who knows? WARNING: This is NOT a healthy relationship and contains some dubcon. I just wanted to experiment with power dynamics between characters in a relationship and, of course, my first thought was of these two characters. Thanks for reading!

"Come here," Rhett slurred slightly. He saw Scarlett standing hesitantly in the grand foyer before she walked slowly over to the dining table. Her brow was creased. Rhett gave his signature smirk and followed with a mocking bow when she glared haughtily at him. He pulled out a chair for her, maintaining all the protocol yet still obviously scorning the southern chivalric code in his drunken state.

"Sit down," he growled, not even attempting to keep the drunkenness from his voice. Well, maybe he only upheld parts of the protocol. Scarlett sat down primly, looking all the world the perfect southern belle. Rhett sneered. Why she insisted on pretending to be one around him, he'd never know.

"There's no reason why you shouldn't have your night cap, even if I am here."

"I didn't want a drink," Scarlett stuck her nose even further in the air. Rhett knew she was lying through her teeth. "I heard a noise and I-"

"You heard nothing of the kind," Rhett interjected whilst pouring her a healthy sized drink - far more than her normal two fingers. "You wouldn't have come down if you thought I was here. You must need a drink badly." Even though he knew it was true and he had spoken as such, it still hurt Rhett that Scarlett didn't even try to deny the fact that she hated him.

"I do not." Scarlett said, but her eyes looked more longingly at the glass of liquor than they ever had at Rhett. He rolled his eyes and slammed the glass down on the table in front of her.

"Take it." He paused. "Don't give yourself airs. I know you drink on the quiet, and I know how much you drink. You think I care if you like your brandy?" Rhett raised his voice, forcing Scarlett, who was steadfastly refusing to spare him a glance, to look at him. Her eyes then lowered to her drink. Rhett continued to stare nonplussed as she reached for the glass and down half of it in one gulp. Rhett could see Scarlett becoming unnerved at his half smirk - which is why it was still on his face - and she stood up quickly.

"You're drunk and I'm going to bed."

"I'm very drunk and I intend getting still drunker 'fore the evening's over," Rhett said, not allowing his wife to push back her chair, "And you're not going to bed. Not yet. Sit down." He grasped Scarlett's shoulder and pushed her back into her chair, so roughly that the heavy candlesticks clattered on the table. Rhett had to admit that he was impressed that she never even broke eye contact with him. Instead of giving any ground, though, he sat down heavily in the chair next to her.

"So she stood by you, did she?" He asked, rhetorically of course. The blood sang in his veins and Rhett could feel his own sweat dripping into his eyes. _Damn this southern heat._ Melanie was too good for Scarlett and most definitely too good for her husband. Scarlett finally looked away in an attempt to hide her emotions, so Rhett rubbed the salt in deeper.

"How does it feel to have the woman you'd wronged cloak your sins for you?" Scarlett opened her mouth to speak but for once, those pretty little lips had no witty retort. _Because she knows she's wrong._ Rhett's words kept spilling into her ear, honey mixed with venom.

"You're wondering if she knows all about you and Ashley." Ashley. The very name tasted like poison on Rhett's tongue, so he dug into Scarlett deeper. He continued drinking up the pained expressions crossing her face as greedily and hedonistically as he drank his brandy earlier. "You're wondering if she did it just to save her face. You're thinking that she's a fool for doing it, even if it did save your hide-"

"I will not listen!" Scarlett interjected, tossing her head, but that shamed expression still creased her eyebrows.

"Yes, you'll listen," Rhett continued to stare at her averted eyes, the anger festering in his stomach twisting maliciously. "Miz Mellie's a fool, but not the kind you think. Just that there's too much honor in her to conceive of any dishonor of anyone she loves. And she loves you." He let the word 'love' hang between them, and when Scarlett didn't react, he felt the need to lash out even more. "Though just why she does, I'm sure I don't know." Rhett could see his words tearing down any self confidence Scarlett had left, but he couldn't make himself stop. In fact, he reveled in how his words cut through his normally impervious wife like a hot knife to butter. Scarlett seemed to struggle to find her words, and when she did find them, they were weak at best.

"If you weren't so drunk and insulting I could explain everything!" Scarlett turned to face him as she spoke in that sharp tone. She rose to leave, "As it is though-" Rhett stood up too, keeping his face just inches away from her's. His smirk morphed into a feral snarl.

"You get out of that chair once more . . ." Rhett let his threat hang in the air. For a moment, it seemed like Scarlett would refuse, like she would stare him down as his liquor-ladened breath scorched her face. However, she slowly melted back into her chair. Her expression remained petulantly haughty and hateful. Rhett let his smirk slide back into his place as he reached for his glass. Despite draining an entire decanter, his mind felt remarkably clear. Rhett knew he would remember every word spoken tonight.

"Of course, the comic figure in all this is the long-suffering Mr. Wilkes. Mr. Wilkes, who can't be mentally faithful to his wife but won't be unfaithful to her technically." He tossed back the whole drink in one swallow. The burn of the alcohol couldn't match the strength of the burning hatred he felt for Ashley Wilkes. Or perhaps Scarlett. Or perhaps both. "Why doesn't he make up his mind?" Rhett muttered. Scarlett rose angrily to defend her would-be lover's honor.

"Rhett, you-" Rhett pushed Scarlett back into her chair harshly as soon as she stood. Her expressive eyebrows furrowed in pain and hurt and her hand reached up to try to pry his away from her shoulder. He had never laid a hand on her before. He had been physically threatening, but never actually hurt her. Rhett put that fact out of his mind and walked around behind her chair. Even in his liquor-muddled mind, he registered that she smelled of roses, lavender, and something he could only explain as Scarlett. Go figure. The worst people in the world always care the most about their appearance, and that's why Scarlett O'Hara always cared more for her appearance than the wellbeing of those around her. 

Rhett leaned forward and rested his elbows on her shoulders. He lifted his large palms in front of her face. The were tanned and calloused, enlarged even more by obvious years of physical labor. They were hands that had tied ropes for years, that had buried themselves into his lovers' hair, that had recently pushed his wife. They were _powerful._

"Observe my hands, my dear," Rhett said, putting his mouth directly next to her ear. He felt her shiver slightly, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel sympathy. Let her go run to Ashley Wilkes with all her tears. Good riddance: he was finished with her.

"I could tear you to pieces with them. And I'd do it if it would take Ashley out of your mind forever." He stroked the soft skin of her jaw and cheeks as his tone turned dark. "But it wouldn't. So I'll remove him from your mind forever this way." Her gasp was almost imperceptible. Rhett barely registered what he was even doing as he knotted his hands into her hair - he had always loved her hair - and applied the tiniest amount of pressure to her skull. He massaged and rolled her head between his hands: gently, of course, but her bones felt so fragile. Her neck felt like that of a baby bird. Never before had he felt so powerful, so in control when Scarlett ws involved.

"I'll put my hands so, one on each side of your head." He tightened his hold ever so slightly. "And I'll smash your skull between them like a walnut. That'll block him out." For a moment, Rhett thought that his threat might have worked. But no. Before she even spoke, Rhett knew Scarlett would only harden her heart and dig herself in deeper when in a fight.

"Take your hands off me, you drunken fool," Scarlett ordered, not allowing a trace of fear into her voice. Rhett couldn't help but chuckle and he removed his hands slowly.

"I've always admired your spirit, my dear." He purposely used the pet name, trying to provoke her, but her nerves seemed steeled against him for the rest of the night. Rhett would have cared, except he knew his wife was a spitfire. Hell, that's why he had married her in the first place, a decision he had come to question.

"Never more than now when your cornered." Scarlett stood up indignantly.

"I'm not cornered. You'll never corner me, Rhett Butler, or frighten me. You've lived in dirt so long you can't understand anything else, and you're jealous of something you can't understand." Rhett's eyes slowly turned equal parts angry and sorrowful as Scarlett spoke. _Oh Scarlett, you don't even know what love is._

"Good night," Scarlett said, turning quickly, her haste betraying her fear. Rhett chuckled, and Scarlett stopped, surprised that her impassioned statement wasn't the end of the matter. It usually would be, but Scarlett had always underestimated Rhett Butler's ability to argue.

"Jealous, am I? Yes, I suppose I am." Rhett stalked over to the doorway in which Scarlett stood. He took her shoulders in his hands and pressed her up against the pillar.

"Even though I know you've been faithful to me all along." Rhett's hot, brandy-laden breath pushed against Scarlett's face, but she didn't dare turn her head to the side.

"How do I know? Because I know Ashley Wilkes and his honorable creed. That gentleman," Rhett spit out, as if being a gentleman was one of the worst things to be. "That's more than I can say for you, or for me. We're not gentlemen. And we have no honor, have we?" Scarlett wrestled out of his grip and stalked off, apparently not about to dignify Rhett's speech with a response.

Rhett knew Scarlett was dreaming of running to Ashley for comfort as she sauntered away from him. He could see it in the slightly dreamy haze that settled in her eyes. But all he could think about was the curve of her tiny waist into her wide hips and round bottom covered in red velvet and white lace. Goddammit. Scarlett looked over her shoulder at him briefly, and he could see her satisfaction at winning another argument. Her catlike eyes flashed in amusement, and Rhett felt all the blood in his body war between going to his face and his loins at the same time. Before he could control himself, he charged after Scarlett and snagged her arm between his hand. Rhett yanked her around roughly to face him, and he grabbed her waist tightly within his hands, pulling her flush against him.

"It's not that easy Scarlett." He dipped her slightly as he kissed her soundly, but Scarlett just pushed at his chest with her tiny, closed fists. She caught the side of his jaw with one particularly hard push, and Rhett pulled back with a snarl.

"Turn me out while you chase Ashley Wilkes? While you dream of Ashley Wilkes? Well this is one night you're not turning me out!" In the back of his mind, Rhett knew that, even for him, this behavior was particularly uncouth. He swept his wife up in his arms and began to carry her up the stairs. She pushed at his chest again, but to no avail. She opened her mouth to shriek, but before she could even emit the tiniest squeak, Rhett said,

"If you have any sense in that idiotic little head of yours, you will be quiet until I'm done with you." Despite her earlier declarations, Scarlett believed his threat and set her jaw tightly. Rhett shifted her so she was lying over his shoulder and he began walking down the east wing, where his and Scarlett's rooms were. He tore the dressing gown off her body as he walked, discarding it to the floor and leaving his wife in nothing but a flimsy shift in the middle of the hallway. Scarlett was ready to complain of the indecency, but, remembering her husband's warning, decided better of it. Rhett chuckled, and Scarlett could feel the vibration rumble through his chest.

"See, Scarlett? You're learning already." Heat bloomed into her cheeks and she raised her fists, intending to struggle once more, but Rhett yanked her back over his shoulder and slammed his lips down on top of hers. Any rational thought she had flew away. He made sure the kiss was demanding and fast-paced, more passionate than any kiss Rhett had ever given her, and definitely far more passionate than any clumsy, behind-the-shed fumblings she might have shared with Ashley or either of her previous husbands. He pushed the taste of alcohol into her mouth and hungrily drank in the heady taste of Scarlett. Her eyes fluttered shut, but her brows still creased in concentration. She kissed him back, but it seemed almost mechanical. Rhett simply did not do mechanical. He demanded - no, he required - the undivided attention of his partner, and goddammit, he was going to get it. He pressed her up against the wall and swallowed Scarlett's protests with an even more frenzied kiss. Tired of craning his neck down, he hooked his elbows around her knees, grasped her buttocks firmly, and lifted her until she was eye level with him. All the while, he never broke the kiss. When he groped her bottom particularly hard, she gasped, and Rhett seized that opportunity and pushed his tongue into her mouth. _Practice makes perfect,_ Rhett thought, but he soured when he remembered that his wife didn't allow that practice to be with her. He pulled away slowly, and smirked when she leaned in, as if not wanting the kiss to end.

"Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Butler? Your pining Ashley will be ever so disappointed as he fucks his wife without sparing a second thought for you," He whispered before his lips curled into a cruel smile, "Or perhaps he does, but those thoughts certainly aren't anymore than the lust of a schoolboy." He heard Scarlett take a slight intake of breath at his lewdness and cruelty, but she stared back at him with cold, calculating eyes.

"At least he has women thinking of him, which is more than I can say for you." Rhett fought the urge to growl, but settled for a dark chuckle as he toyed with the neckline of her shift.

"There's a string of women across the Atlantic seaboard who will beg to differ with that statement. You need the attention a real man - you always have." 

"What, the attentions of a real man like _you_?" Scarlett jabbed. 

"Oh Scarlett, who says you have my attention? I am thinking of anyone but you." Not wanted to see the hurt in her eyes, Rhett went in for another searing kiss, rucking her shift up around her thighs and exposing the creamy skin. He had half a mind to divest her of that damned shift right in the middle of the hall as well, but despite his often caddish behavior, he did not want Bonnie to find all of her mother's clothing in the middle of the hall the next morning. Too many questions. So instead, Rhett carried his wife to her bedroom - the thought they didn't share a bed still made him growl in his throat - door and leaned against it so it opened. The room was dimly lit with oil lamps and the bed was all made up. It was far too big for one, tiny woman. Rhett couldn't stop kissing her, couldn't let her go, or she would proclaim her hate for him, and Rhett just couldn't have that. Not that night. He laid her down on the bed and realized that he could not lift the shift over Scarlett's head without breaking their embrace. He removed his arms from either side of her head, rested his pelvis on top of hers to prevent any resistance, and ripped the nightgown from the collar to her navel. Scarlett pulled back, her face only an inch away from Rhett's.

"Rhett! This was my nicest-"

"I bought you this one, I'll buy you another. Now shut up." He went back in, but the spell was broken, or at the very least, lifting. Scarlett, finding that she couldn't heave herself further up the bed due to Rhett's weight, settled on pulled a sheet between their bodies to cover her torso. However, the sheet did not stretch far enough to hide all of her body, and, in his drunken state, Rhett settled openly leering at the body his wife had denied him for years. Scarlett, usually quite the vixen outside of the bedroom, shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop staring. You ruined my body years ago, even a man like you wouldn't stoop so low as to tease me now." Rhett raised an eyebrow at his wife before prompting her to ease her tight grip on the sheet. He then pulled the tatters of her shift off her shoulders. Scarlett allowed for the material to pool around her waist, but she still looked at him warily with those large green eyes. She continued to do so as Rhett kissed his way down her neck, down her cleavage, down towards her navel. True, while she had stretch marks from carrying Bonnie, her breasts and hips filled out nicely and her waist remained tiny. Why, Rhett was certain that he could wrap his hands around it and his fingertips would almost touch. He would hardly call that ruined. And, in truth, Rhett loved her stretch marks, as they represented the fact that she was his. No other man had fucked a baby into Scarlett O'Hara, not even that Ashley Wilkes, and Rhett would be damned if he ever let one. Because no matter how much Little Miz Scarlett grated on his very last nerve, she was his.

"I will appreciate my wife's body if I damn well please, Scarlett." He tapped her hip bone, and to his surprise, Scarlett obliged and lifted her hips so Rhett could remove the last of her garments. Rhett surged up her body and took Scarlett by surprise by pressing another sound, passionate kiss to her lips. Her hips jumped on their own volition, rucking against the scratchy material of his trousers. Rhett pulled back and stared into her eyes as she nervously chewed on her bottom lip. Despite the fact that he was fully dressed and she laid naked beneath him, Rhett felt far more exposed when he saw her guarded expression. Yes, she wanted him - the wet spot left on his pants was enough evidence of that - but did she want _him_? He drew himself back slowly, leaving the undressed Scarlett propped up on her elbows with a confused look on her face. Once he was at the foot of the bed, resting back on his heels, he ran a hand through his hair. Scarlett continued to look at him expectantly, her facial expression neutral. Rhett pushed himself off the bed and shook his head. He picked up his cufflinks and cravat, which had somehow been discarded before they had reached the bed. He refused to look at Scarlett as he reattached them to his person.

"Rhett," she said softly, "Rhett, look at me." Rhett refused, and he continued his search around the room for one of his cufflinks. He finally located it and made his way to the door.

"Rhett." He hadn't even heard her rise from the bed, but when he felt her hand on his shoulder, his hand didn't turn the door knob. "What the hell is going on?" Rhett contemplated his options but settled, surprisingly, on the truth.

"I'm not going to make love to a wife who does not want to do the same. Not with one who wants to make love to someone else either. I may be a scoundrel but even I won't do that again, Scarlett." When he was met with nothing but silence, Rhett fought to keep his shoulders from sagging and he twisted the door knob. He was halfway out the door when he felt her hand slide from his shoulder and snake around his middle like it was a lifeline. Rhett stilled, and he could feel both their heartbeats thrumming.

"Scarlett, I need you to say it out loud. I won't do it unless you say it." Rhett's voice was hard, but he made himself vulnerable. Their marriage was always a battle, and it was a strategical weakness to show emotion, as emotions were much easier to manipulate than a whole person. But Rhett knew, even his fading drunken state, exactly what he was doing. He was sticking his neck out to Scarlett, giving her a clear shot - hell, he was giving her a blade.

"Please," Scarlett whispered into the soft cotton of his shirt.

"Please what?" Rhett said in that same detached manner.

"Please . . . please stay."

Rhett closed the door and picked up his wife again to push her against the door. This time, she initiated the kiss. Rhett realized that her stiff movements weren't from boredom, but from inexperience. With a pang of guilt, Rhett realized that he had never done much to assuage her. He had never really considered the fact that she might not be very comfortable in the bedroom after two other marriages - he should have known. Her first husband was nothing more than a little boy and her second was an aging crackpot who probably couldn't get it up. He had always discounted her mechanical movements as some twisted sense of loyalty to Ashley. He slowed down the kiss before completely pulling back. Both their chests were heaving, Scarlett's nipples dusty pink hardened peaks. Rhett took his time kissing and licking and nipping his way down her jawline and neck before hitching Scarlett up into one arm so he was eye level with her chest. While he gently nipped and suckled at her right nipple, he rolled and pinched lightly her left between his fingers. Scarlett gasped and gripped her legs tighter around his middle whilst burying her hands in his hair. He carried her back to the bed and laid her down softly before switching his ministrations. Rhett couldn't get enough of her short pants and mewls, but he also craved more. It was time to make Little Miz Scarlett scream his name.


End file.
